Blacktail Deer Plateau Strong enough to hold you through the winter

A new voice rose from among the throng, youthful and unfamiliar, and Malachi turned. But when his gaze met the boy he froze momentarily, eyes wide as a vague sense of familiarity clicked his memory to Tyrr. His breath caught and Malachi darted his eyes away, yet he didn't need a second glance to tell him this youth was not the northman of Duskfire Glacier. Tyrr would have been his age by now, but this boy still held the look of a yearling. Still, the recognition had caught him off guard, and Malachi did not lift his gaze to him again. Rather, he returned a steady eye to Dante and Lasher, though he remained perturbed.

Lasher was quick to diffuse the fear of backlash Malachi had half expected when he'd lifted his concern, and confusion replaced his uncertainty. There had been at least two packs living on the shore short of a year ago, but Lasher and Dante both spoke as if the land held the scent of no creature but the sea. The siren couldn't be gone, as much as he wished it to be true. She was a deceiver, a wraith with a serpentine tongue. Lasher assured him of no packwolves nearby; whether the siren still haunted the shores was a different matter left unspoken, and a paranoia Malachi chose to keep to himself.

So when Lasher turned his gaze upon him, Malachi tipped his muzzle in deference to the nod the Beta passed his way. No other words could convince him the shores were safe, and he had no other words to give. It would be easy to run, to perhaps sojourn to a place that was far from these Wilds, but he felt a tie to the family here he could not bear to break. He would follow, for nothing but the sake of the pack, and Malachi let the bow of his head speak to this.